


A Cottage Christmas

by Starren_Moonstone



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Set in Episodes 159-160 | Scottish Safehouse Period (The Magnus Archives), failed ritual AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:47:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28287954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starren_Moonstone/pseuds/Starren_Moonstone
Summary: Martin gives Jon a merry little Christmas.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 3
Kudos: 43
Collections: The Magnus Archives Flash Fanwork Challenge





	A Cottage Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> This is the week three story I wrote for The Magnus Archives Flash Fiction Challenge. The prompt I used was Christmas. I was sadly really busy this week and could really only pull off one of the prompts. I might do more with this later with the other two because they are fun. But for now, I hope you enjoy the story.

Jon woke up with two thoughts in mind. The first is that he Knows it’s midnight on Christmas morning. The second is that Martin isn’t in bed. Jon reaches out on the bed, trying to find Martin to no avail. A drowsy mind forgets that Martin cannot physically hide on the tiny bed of theirs. 

“Mahtin?” Jon quietly calls out, slowly sitting up and rubbing his face. There’s no response, not that Jon really expected there to be one. He pulls back the covers, shivering from the December cold, and makes his way to the door, the old floorboards creaking as he goes over.

He opens the door, and Martin is running up the hallway. “I’m here, Jon, I’m here,” Martin says in the soothing way that usually soothes all of Jon’s worries. 

“Where’d you go?” Jon mutters, holding onto Martin’s sleeves of his night shirt, leaning into Martin’s chest. 

“I was just getting some water. Go back to bed.”

Jon doesn’t move. He wasn’t about to go back until Martin came with him. He groaned, clutching tighter.

Martin sighs fondly. “Alright, alright.” He scoops up Jon, which he makes it look so easy, and walks back to the bedroom. He deposits Jon on the bed, and climbs in himself. Jon immediately wraps his arms around Martin’s waist and buries his head in Martin’s chest. “You’re like a cat, you know that?”

Jon unintelligibly grunts his response, enjoying the warmth of Martin radiating through his pajamas. He felt safe there, Martin’s heartbeat under his ear. He can feel himself slipping off to sleep again, Martin brushing his hair in a calming motion. At some point, Jon could feel his arms being moved, and Martin slipping out again. It takes a lot of effort on Jon’s part to say Martin’s name, and even then it doesn’t come out as anything intelligible. 

“Shh, I’ll be back,” Martin’s quiet voice. Something soft is pressed in Jon’s arms, which he immediately latched onto. 

Jon sinks into the softness, and falls asleep. He has vague dreams of wisps of fogs that eventually fade to the pulsing warmth of water. They aren’t exactly nightmares, nothing to wake up terrified, limbs flying in every direction. But they are enough to made Jon uncomfortable and eventually open his eyes to the waking world.

The sun has come out, peaking through the windows, the light of which is displayed on the floor of the bedroom and on the lower portion of the bed. Jon reaches around for the covers, which must have slipped off at some point in the night. Martin is curled up around him, making him the little spoon. Martin groans slightly, bringing Jon a little closer to himself. 

“Morning,” Martin mumbles groggily in Jon’s hair. 

Jon turns around to face Martin, and kiss him on the nose. And then a thought struck him. “It’s Christmas.”

Martin chuckles a little. “What, did you forget?”

“Sort of,” Jon admits, which made Martin laugh even more. “Look November went about too quickly and it felt like the 10th lasted for a few decades.”

“You do not do well with time.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Should have known from all those late nights in the Archive.”

“Hush, you.” Jon sits up, much to Martin’s grievance. “I’m going to make some tea, and don’t say you’ll do it.” Jon gives Martin a hard eye for a moment, which makes Martin giggle a little. “Any preferences?”

“I think I put the peppermint tea next to the green tea,” Martin says sleepily. 

Jon smiles warmly, and heads over to the kitchen to make the tea. He makes quick work putting on the kettle and pulling out two mugs. He sighs, watching the world outside through the window. He still couldn’t believe he got to have this. Quiet mornings, peaceful walks in the country side, these simple moments. It feels nearly like a dream at times. There’s still the whole thing with Jonah hanging over their heads, but it seems manageable now. The influence of the eye has gone down significantly, but it is still ever present for Jon. Similar to how the Lonely is still present with Martin, even though it’s influence has waned so much. There are certain scars that never truly go away. 

He hears something shift in the sitting room, turning his attention away from the kettle. “Martin?” Jon asks, shifting his way to the other room. 

Martin isn’t in the sitting room, nor is there anyone else. Instead, Jon saw the Christmas tree he and Martin brought in and decorated with paper links, and a large wrapped present lying on the ground from where it was precariously perched against the fireplace. There are more scattered under the tree, all of which were certainly not there the day before. Jon would have stood there for a lot longer, wondering where all this came from if not for the kettle whistling for his attention. 

Jon finishes preparing the tea and heads back into the bedroom. Martin hasn’t moved much, though has taken Jon’s pillow hostage in his arms. Jon looks at him fondly for a moment, before putting the tea down on the bedside table and running a hand through Martin’s curls. Martin stirs slightly, but not enough to open his eyes. 

“Martin?” Jon asks, messaging the back of Martin’s neck, “Why are there wrapped packages under the tree?”

“It’s Christmas,” Martin mutters, still not making any progress in actually waking. 

Jon sips a bit of his tea, then smirks. “Do you think someone broke into the house last night?” he asks casually.

This makes Martin sit up with a shot. “What?”

“Well, how else do you explain it?”

“Explain what?”

Jon puts down his tea and takes Martin by the hand, over to the sitting room where the presents are laid out. “This,” Jon says simply.

Martin takes one look at it and starts laughing. “No, no. Jon, that was me.”

“So you snuck out of the cottage, broke in, and did this?” Jon says, a little amused.

Martin continued laughing, having a little trouble breathing properly. “And where would I have broken in, Jon?”

Jon shrugs, “You tell me. You are the one who is surprisingly light on your feet.” He waits until Martin has calmed down some. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“I wanted to. After everything that has happened over the past few years, I thought this would be a nice change.”

“You should have told me,” Jon says, “I would have gotten you something.”

“Jon, you already did,” Martin says, his face slowly filling with deep love and affection for the other, “You saved me. I live because of you.”

They look into each other’s eyes for some time, Martin out of love and Jon out of not knowing what to say. “That is true, but it’s not something that can be opened like… this.”

“I can manage.” Martin wraps his arms around Jon, who let’s himself be held by the one he loves.


End file.
